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CHAPTER 28
Wanting to see the moon as long as I can, I climb the spiral staircase of the transept tower I crossed with Simon to the second-highest level, which is even with the peak of the roof. I step into the shadow outside one of the three-story-high arched windows and place my left hand on the stone frame, pausing to calm my breathing before I move fully into the moonlight.
When I do, sounds and scents and the feel of the limestone at my fingertips are enhanced, but not as much as I’d hoped. The moon is less than half what it was the first time I tried to use magick. While it’s better than being without, disappointment sits in my stomach like a lump of clay.
My sense of touch is distracting, so I lower my hand, but the breeze at my back makes me sway toward the sheer drop at my toes, and I begrudgingly brace my forearm against the limestone. Then I close my eyes again and concentrate.
The night is young, and men and women laugh and call to each other, claiming they’re owed a pint from a previous night of drinking. Friends take leave from those they’re visiting and return to their own homes. Among them will be Magister Thomas, but I don’t hear anyone who is obviously him. In thedirection of Pleasure Road, doors are knocked on, then opened and shut. Gradually, the noises decrease as more people turn in for the night.
One hour passes, and still I’ve heard nothing suspicious. I shift my aching feet and lean my shoulder on the beveled stone frame. Neither of the previous murders happened before midnight, and the moon will be gone by then. This quest is hopeless.
I sigh and open my eyes. The lower edge of the moon now dips below the horizon, taking with it my only chance to sense anything tonight.
What do you want?
Suddenly I’m pulled forward as though by an invisible safety rope around my waist. The world shifts around me as stone arching above changes shape, and a gargoyle jutting from the wall elongates to twice its length. I step back as the form of a man towers over me, unmoving, the moon hanging under his outstretched arm. There’s grass under my feet and warmth at my back.
I’m somewhere else. I’m someoneelse.
I won’t resist, please. Just please. I’ll do anything you want.
A hard shove pushes me to the ground. I land on my hands and knees, but weight centered in my back presses me all the way down, until even the air is forced from my lungs.
Hands stroke my hair in its single braid, then my head is yanked back, bringing me high enough to catch a fraction of a breath. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
He’s the one who killed Ysabel and Perrete. And he’s going to kill me.
My hair is sliced away in one stroke, and the weight from my back is briefly lifted. I scrabble forward, away, until something heavy strikes me between my shoulder blades. There’s pain for an instant before something inside me snaps, and I go down again.Nothing holds me, but now my limbs won’t move. Can’t move. A hand grabs what’s left of my hair and pulls my head up again.
What do you want?Though my lips move, I don’t have enough strength to even whisper the words.
His hot breath hits my ear. “I want you to die.”
Something cold and sharp presses against my exposed throat. Then there is warm wetness surging out of me, spilling down my chest. I gasp, but it’s not air which pours into my lungs, it’s blood. I’m drowning in it. Each attempt to draw breath is more futile than the last. Coldness spreads from the top of my head, flowing down my face like water. The edges of my vision darken.
I never thought it could be you.
Blackness sweeps inward until the only thing left is the bright moon setting on the hills in the distance. The last edge of it slips beneath the horizon, and I slide with it into hell.
I stumble backward and trip, landing on my rear with a jolt of pain, followed by my head hitting the ground with a thump that echoes in my skull. For several seconds I stare into darkness.
What just happened? Where am I?
Whoam I?
A rustling coo above me is a pigeon flying from one perch to another, its ghostly form vanishing into the gloom. I curl my fingers, and they drag across what feels like stone. Levering myself up, I realize I’m in the south tower of the Sanctum, sitting on a floor sprinkled with bird droppings. The moon is gone, and only starlight comes through the high windows. Scrambling to my feet, I thank the Sun I fell backward and not forward.
While it makes no sense, I know I was someone else only seconds ago—someone who is now dead. But I saw what she saw. I heard what she heard and felt what she felt—until there was nothing left to feel. But where?
There was grass, and I could see the moon clearly. That narrows it down to a hillside area open to the west, of which there are several in Collis.
I look out over the rooftops, cursing the moon for setting when I needed it most. The dark shape of the gargoyle blocks part of my view, and I remember how it had transformed, becoming a statue. A man holding a scroll, his arm outstretched.
I know where that is.
Turning away, I dash down the stairs and out onto the gutter to leap onto the scaffolding. I slide down poles rather than climb, shaking so much I almost fall twice, but it takes less than a minute to reach the ground. Then I’m racing across the square to the Pathway of Prayer.
The street bends with the contour of the slope, but the spire of the ancient Temple of the Sun is visible in the distance. Shortly after the second turn, I pass the alley where Perrete was killed. At the last bend is a lamp next to a door that’s opening to let someone in. Every second is precious, but I run to it, slamming into the wood before it can close.
